


Cafe Americano

by The_Alleycat_Ulan



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: College!AU, Fluff, M/M, coffee shop!AU, modern!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 01:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3362129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Alleycat_Ulan/pseuds/The_Alleycat_Ulan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt doesn't do coffee. But Thomas and Minho are running late and eventually he has no choice but to concede that he likes his coffee the same way he likes his men; strong, dark and undeniably handsome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cafe Americano

The Glade isn't one of those obnoxious chain coffee shops, which Newt appreciates. It's a little small, tucked between a florist and a boutique clothes shop that never seems to be open. The décor isn't quite hipster enough to be pretentious (it's a near thing) but at least the armchair he's slouched on is worn enough to be comfy. He props his feet up on a pouffe and eyes the door impatiently, keenly aware of the ticking clock. They should have been here by now and neither of the shuckfaces are answering their phones. Probably too busy snogging, but he doesn't want to think too hard about that. To be honest, the only reason he minds is because he has an assignment due tomorrow and the other two insisted that it was an emergency.

A movement behind him startles Newt so badly he lets out a little yelp and turns to face the culprit.  
“Why would you do that?!”

The barista raises an eyebrow, but otherwise keeps his face impassive. “Do you want something?” he asks. “You've been waiting for your friends for a while now.”

It's Newt's turn to raise his eyebrows and he looks the guy over properly. And damn he's a pretty sight. “How do you know I'm waiting for friends?” he asks casually, tilting his head so he can get a better look at the guy's face.

“You come in here with those two guys pretty often,” the barista- Albert, according to his name badge- replies, crossing his arms across his chest and frowning slightly.

Newt fights the urge to keep the grin on his face from getting too big. “How have I not noticed you before?” he asks, allowing a slight flirtatious edge to his voice. The corner of Albert's lips twitch into a slight smile and Newt feels victory welling in his chest; despite this guy's tough demeanour he's just a big softy, Newt can tell already.

“Well, you never order anything and you always sit there, facing the window,” Albert shrugs. If he's aware of how closely Newt is watching him, he's ignoring it.

“Still, I'd like to think I'd notice someone as bloody good looking as you,” Newt says easily. Albert actually cracks a smile.

“It's cute that you think you can chat me up,” Albert is still smiling though and he's relaxed a little, leaning against the armchair next to Newt's.

“Can't blame a guy for trying,” Newt laughs.

Whatever Albert's reply was going to be is lost as the chime from the door announces new customers. Albert's upright and back to his serious demeanour as Thomas and Minho make their way over.

“Hey man,” Minho sinks into the chair Albert had been leaning on. Newt raises an eyebrow and Thomas catches the cue quickly giving an explanation for their tardiness that involves bus breakdowns and phones dying but Newt isn't listening. Albert has made himself busy nearby, wiping down a table and Newt's taking the opportunity to admire his ass. He's almost ashamed of how perverse that seems. Almost.

“So anyway,” Newt says when Thomas has finished his story, “What was the big emergency that just couldn't wait?”

Thomas and Minho exchange the briefest glance, and Thomas actually shifts uncomfortably in his chair. Newt frowns slightly, “What is it?”

Minho puts on his cool facade and Newt knows he's not going to get anything out of him so he turns his attention to Thomas. “Tommy,” he says sternly and is rewarded with an impish grin.

“We just thought you needed to get out for a bit,” Thomas replies.  
“What?” Newt asks, looking appealingly to Minho.  
“You're stressing out about that assignment, bro. Figured you needed to get out for a breather,” Minho says.

Newt looks from one to the other slowly. “Liars,” he says finally, leaning back in his chair. “You're procrastinating, the both of you. You just don't want to work on your own assignments.”

Minho stretches out his legs lazily and shrugs, “Worth a shot.”  
“Slintheads,” Newt sighs in mild amusement.  
Thomas actually laughs, “Dude, you are such a mama duck.”  
“Mama what?!” Newt cries indignantly.

Thomas laughs harder and whatever he is about to say is interrupted.

“Here,” Albert's suddenly appeared and is placing mugs down on the table, a machiatto for Minho and a mocha for Thomas. “I figured you guys would get the usual so I get went ahead and made them.”

“Now that's what I call service, thanks man!” Minho says appreciatively cupping his hands around the mug. Thomas says something to a similar effect.

“And what about me?” Newt asks, playing hurt.  
“You never order anything,” Albert replies evenly, but there's a glint in his eyes that Newt doesn't miss.  
“Maybe what I want isn't on the menu,” it's out of his mouth before he can stop himself. Albert actually laughs and it's a sound that makes Newt's gut do a flip. He wants to hear that more often.  
“Well,” Albert says in a measured voice, “If you actually asked I'm sure we could come to some kind of conclusion.” He turns away again before Newt can reply.

Newt smiles to himself and then realises that Thomas and Minho are watching him.

“Dude,” Minho says.  
“What?” Newt asks with a laugh.  
“You were totally chatting him up,”  
“Yeah and?”  
“Nice,” Minho nods approvingly.

“I think he's kinda scary,” Thomas puts in.  
“Nah,” Newt shrugs him off, “He's just a big softy.”  
“Oh really? How can you even tell?” Thomas asks.  
Newt smiles, more to himself than to the others. “Just can,” he says in reply to Thomas.

* * *

“Coffee,” Newt moans, his forehead pressed against the benchtop.

“It's called a cafe americano, if you like it that much you should at least learn what it's called.”  
“Coffee,” Newt repeats, raising his head slightly so he can watch the barista. He hasn't moved from near the sink where he's drying mugs. “Alby,” Newt drags the name out, begging.

With a sigh Albert tucks the tea towel into his apron and moves to the coffee machine. “I really wish you'd stop calling me that, it's catching,” he says as he flicks the switch on the grinder.

Newt rests his chin on his forearms now, watching Alby contentedly. “Slim it, you love it,” he replies lazily.  
Albert places a small cup in front of him. “You look like a cat like that,” he says, moving back to the sink.  
“Do you like cats?” Newt asks, eyes following Alby.  
Alby regards him for a moment, then gives one of his rare smiles. “Can't get enough of 'em.”

Newt looks pleased and turns his attention to his coffee, not lifting himself more out of his slouch than he needs to. He's keenly aware that now he's the one being watched. He finishes the drink quickly and carefully places the cup back on its saucer. He slumps back down, and looks hopefully to Alby, “More?”  
Alby shakes his head in amusement, “I'm cutting you off. It's almost close.”

Newt audibly groans and somehow manages to slump more.

Alby chuckles and comes over to collect the cup. “Exams that bad huh?”  
“Yes,” Newt replies his voice muffled.  
“What do you study anyway?” Alby asks.

Newt shifts so he can watch Alby again. “Science,” he says, then clarifies, “Physics.”  
“Clever,” Alby replies.  
“You mean devastating,” Newt moans, “Worst decision ever.”  
“Nah, from what Thomas and Minho say you've got a good head on those shoulders and it's more than just pretty.”

Newt is pleased by the compliment and visibly perks. “They're not to dim themselves really,” he says,”But what about you?”  
“What about me?” Alby asks with a raised eyebrow.  
“Always wanted to be a barista?”

Alby is quiet for a moment as he puts away the last few mugs, then he turns back to face Newt leaning his arms on the bench.

“I was actually going to do Physics too,” he says and Newt looks at him curiously.  
“What happened?”  
“A whole load of klunk,” Alby replies, his tone showing he didn't want to elaborate.

Newt winces slightly, and cautiously reaches his hand out to rest on Alby's forearm. “I'm sorry.”

“No,” Alby broods over his next words for a moment, “It's over and done. This is what I'm doing for now.”  
“Still,” Newt can't quite work out what he can say to comfort him. But then Alby's mouth twitches into a smile.

“It's not like it's a bad job really,” he says. “Got some good regulars who come in.” He pauses and then leans in close to Newt, “Between you and me, there's one of them in particular that I like quite a lot.”

* * *

 

“You guys really don't have to,” Newt says, but Thomas and Minho aren't going to let it go.  
“Man, it's the end of exams and your birthday, we're throwing a party,” Minho says firmly.  
“You said yourself we should celebrate,” Thomas adds.  
Newt sighs, “I meant the end of exams not my birthday, it's too much hassle.”  
“Hassle?” Thomas laughs, “Don't be such a party pooper mama.”

“Mama?” Alby asks, arriving with their drinks. Thomas snickers and Newt wants to bury his head in the pot of flowers by the door.  
“Mama duck,” Minho clarifies. Alby's face shows his still doesn't understand so Minho elaborates, “C'mon man, he acts like this overprotective mother all the time, haven't you noticed?”

Alby thinks it over for a minute then nods, “Yeah he does, doesn't he?” he chuckles. “Mama duck, got a ring to it.”  
“Don't you start,” Newt mutters, with a pout. “These two shuckfaces have everyone in class calling me that.”  
“You've got everyone here calling me Alby,” the barista responds, “I could return the favour.”  
“Please do,” Thomas says enthusiastically and Newt groans.

“Hey man,” Minho speaks up suddenly as Alby's about to leave. He turns back and looks at Minho questioningly. “Want to come to mama duck's party? It's his birthday next Friday.”  
Newt makes a funny little squeak that doesn't escape Alby's notice and he smirks slightly, “I'd love to,” he replies and saunters away.

“Why?” Newt asks indignantly, “Why would you bloody do that?”  
Minho laughs, “Mostly for your reaction. But also, you seemed to be having trouble asking that hottie out on your own so I figured I'd do you a favour.”  
“Slinthead,” Newt mutters, sipping at his coffee.  
“Ah but you can't deny you're look forward to the party now,” Thomas teases gently.  
Newt allows himself a little smile, “Well yeah, that's true.”

* * *

 

The small two room apartment was packed with people, and Newt was fairly sure he actually only knew half of them. But five beers and three shots (courtesy of Minho and Thomas) of God knows what later it hardly mattered.

“So you having fun now?” Minho slings an arm around Newt's shoulders and presses another shot glass into his hands.  
“Mostly,” Newt concedes, not hesitating to down the drink as his eyes scan the room carefully. “Would be having a whole lot more fun though if a certain tall, dark and very handsome man were to make his presence known,”

Minho makes a face at him, “You talk weird when you're drunk.”  
Newt returns the face with one of his own, “You start speaking exclusively in French.”  
“It's a beautiful language,”  
“No, it's just you being an arse,”

“Who's being an arse?” Thomas asks mimicking Newt's accent on the final word. As he approaches, Minho reaches out an arm and wraps it around his waist pulling him closer. Newt makes a disgusted face at them.  
“Your boyfriend. When he starts speaking French,” Newt answers.

“Yeah,” Thomas concedes, “You are an arse when you do that.”  
“Hey!” Minho gives him a shove but doesn't let him go, “You're supposed to be on my side.”  
Thomas shrugs, “I didn't say it wasn't sexy as hell.”  
“Oh you sweet talker,” Minho laughs pulling Thomas in for a kiss. Newt rolls his eyes and detaches himself from the other two before they start doing more than just kissing. He tells himself it's because they're annoying not because he's oh-so-slightly jealous.

Newt finds more beer in the fridge and indiscriminately takes one before settling himself at the kitchen bench with a bag of chips. He's nursing his beer when a movement behind him makes him jump so bad it's all he can do to not topple out of his chair.

“Why would you do that?!” he manages to yelp before his heart jumps into his mouth. Alby is standing behind him, a smirk dancing on his lips. Newt draws a breath to say something but he's lost all his words because damn. Alby's not wearing anything special – jeans and a shirt- but somehow they suit him perfectly. They're tight in all the right places, and just loose enough in others, and the colours make his skin so... touchable...

“I thought you might like a drink,” Alby says making himself comfortable at the bench next to Newt, setting down two beer bottles, “But I see you've already got one.”  
Newt shrugs in what he hopes is a nonchalant way, “I won't say no to another.” Alby slides the bottle over to him as Newt makes a show of sculling his other bottle.

“You look weird without an apron,” Newt says without really thinking.  
“Weird good?” Alby asks, apparently unfazed by the randomness of the question.  
Newt makes a show of mulling it over for a minute then smiles, “Yeah, weird good.”  
“Well, you're weird good when you're drunk so I guess we're a match,” Alby says taking a swig of his beer. Then he makes a disgusted face, “What the shuck is this?” he asks, holding the bottle up to examine it carefully. He looks as though the beverage insulted both his tastebuds and his mother.

Newt shrugs, looking at his own bottle. “Gally's probably,” he says, “He's got weird taste.”  
“You got that right,” Alby agrees and takes another gulp, making another face at the taste.  
“If you don't like it, don't drink it?” Newt suggests, sniffing suspiciously at his bottle.  
“Never, ever waste free beer,” Alby replies and resolutely sculls whatever's left in the bottle. Newt laughs at his expression and then Alby motions pointedly for Newt to do the same.

Newt looks at the bottle in his hands. It was probably a bad idea to scull the whole thing. But how did the saying go? 'No great adventure ever started with a good idea,' or something like that. Maybe? Newt shrugs and does his best to finish the drink as quickly as he can. Alby wasn't exaggerating, it tasted like klunk.

When he's done, he plants the bottle resolutely on the bench with a louder than intended crack. He winces, but Alby's smiling at him and it's his secret smile and it's that smile that makes Newt's, well, everything, tingle and flip and flutter in precisely the right ways. He stands up a little too quickly and his legs tangle and he would have fallen if Alby hadn't grabbed him.

“How many have you had?” Alby asks both amused and concerned. Newt waves him off.  
“Enough,” he replies, and then grabs Alby's hand and tugs him towards the living room, “Dance with me,”  
“I don't really-”  
“Dance with me,” Newt insists, resting his hands on Alby's shoulders, he starts to sway in time to the song. Alby relents and wraps his hands around Newt's waist, pulling him closer. Alby wasn't lying when he tried to tell Newt he didn't dance, so they just kinda stand there swaying and Newt doesn't mind one bit.

“What's this song?” Alby asks after a minute.  
“No idea,” Newt replies.  
Alby chuckles and he's so close Newt can feel it. “I thought this was your party?”  
“Man, I don't even know half of these people. Tommy and Minho invited them,”  
“Speaking of, where are they?”  
“In their room, don't want to know more than that.”

Alby chuckles again and Newt leans closer, he wonders idly if it was possible to just not move for the rest of forever. To stay like this.

“Wait, you guy live together as well?” Alby asks and this time Newt chuckles.  
“No, they're just the kind of friends who have their own room in your house,”  
“Oh, and you suspect that your family actually loves them more than you?”  
“Yeah, exactly.”

Alby gets that look like he's about to laugh again and Newt can't take it anymore, he leans down and kisses him. Alby doesn't seem to mind at all as he kisses back. He's not as rushed and clumsy as Newt is, but he's also not as drunk. As suddenly as they were kissing they're not, instead they're just standing there swaying to the music foreheads pressed together and somehow the whole thing is so perfect and complete that Newt feels compelled to say so.

And then, unforgivably, he laughs instead.

“Care to share?” Alby asks. He's not upset. They kissed and then Newt laughed. Alby should at least be a little offended and somehow this makes Newt laugh harder.  
“I didn't realise,” he gasps out, “I'm taller than you.”  
“And that's hilarious?” Alby asks, but he's smiling. Not his secret smile, an even better one that's just in his eyes.  
“You taste like coffee!” Newt can't help it. It's not even funny but it is.  
“You are a whole lot drunker than I thought.”  
Newt struggles to control his laughter, but he nods in agreement. “Yes, probably drunker than I thought too,” he agrees.

“Want to sit down?”  
“No,” Alby raises an eyebrow and Newt rethinks what he's just said. “Yes,” he amends and allows Alby to lead him to the couch.

Newt sits down and when Alby follows suit, Newt moves closer and puts his legs over Alby's lap. Alby has one arm around his waist so Newt leans into him while Alby's other hand absently strokes his thigh. Then they're kissing him again and this time Newt finds it everything except funny. It's hot and and messy and oh-so-perfect. Newt feels so intense he wonders if it's possible to spontaneously combust.

And then he's laughing again.

“Shuck it,” he giggles, nuzzling into Alby's neck. “Sorry, I'm sorry,”  
Alby laughs too and leans his head against Newt's. “It's alright.”

They stay like that for a while, simply enjoying the feeling of closeness. Newt doesn't even realise he's starting to fall asleep until Alby nudges him, “C'mon kit, let's get you to bed.”

“Kit?” Newt asks, but he doesn't resist when Alby scoops him and starts carrying him. He is however mildly surprised by just how strong Alby is.  
“Yeah, like kitten but not,”  
Newt thinks it over for a minute, “I like that much more than mama duck,” he says, then adds quickly, “But only from you.”  
“You wish is my command,” Alby replies. They're at the bedroom door now and somehow Alby manages to open it without dropping Newt.

“Light switch?” Alby prompts and Newt reaches awkwardly around to flick it on, thanking whatever God might be listening that he'd had the foresight to clean it that morning. Alby kicks the door shut behind them and carries Newt over to the bed. He puts Newt down and moves like he's going to leave but Newt's looped his arms around Alby's neck and he's not going to let him leave anytime soon.

“Stay,” Newt commands, pulling Alby down onto the bed with him. He can feel him smiling and really that just makes him want him more. Alby props himself up on his elbows, his face hovering above Newt's.

“Okay, but you should know I don't put out on the first date,” his eyes are smiling, but also serious.  
“What about all those times I stayed late at your work, don't they count for something?”  
Alby shook his head, “Not even a little. But tell you what can go for brunch tomorrow and make that date number two. My friend Frypan works at a place not too far from here and he's one mean cook.”

Newt finds himself nodding, “That sounds nice.”

They're quiet for a minute and then Newt speaks up.

“Kissing is okay, though right?”  
“Kissing is always okay.”

* * *

When Newt wakes up the next morning he's groggy and he suspects that any sudden movements would launch a terrible headache, but he's okay with that. He rolls over and his arm finds its way around Alby's waist as Newt gently kisses him awake.

Somehow, Alby still tastes like coffee and Newt is completely okay with that.

* * *

 

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End file.
